


Carnal

by Shaw_Andreas



Category: Warrior Nun (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:14:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25462258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaw_Andreas/pseuds/Shaw_Andreas
Summary: Beatrice had but one very apparent love language: physical touch.21 times she verbally failed to say “I love you”, and the one time she didn’t.
Relationships: Sister Beatrice/Ava Silva
Comments: 26
Kudos: 467





	1. We're Here

The large poster of SOS Children's Villages greeted the bunch, meters away from the entrance of the rustic building.

From outside they were met with small children running around the playing area; kids of various ages seemingly excited over the sight of a visiting passenger van.

It was one of the Order’s more mundane missions, a break from their usual demon-slaying activities.

Camila who sat up front, yawned and stretched after Mary had nudged her from behind the seat. Lilith turned her head slightly to crack her neck, as though getting ready for a beat-down when there was none. Beatrice found this funny and she smiled faintly to herself, relieved that orphanage visits like today usually went very smoothly for everyone.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Ava stirred in her lap, waking up from the noise the children were making outside the van.

Shortly after, Mother Superion parked the van, the engine cut and one of the nuns opened the doors to greet the children, eagerly waiting for them to step out.

“Last one off is on navigation duty later,” Beatrice quipped, incredibly patient with the blonde. If it had been Mary instead of Beatrice that Ava decided to fall asleep on, she would have been on the ground by now.

Of course, Ava knew there was no such thing as “navigation duty”, since visits to the orphanage were done regularly.

“Two more minutes”, Ava whispered, barely being heard – obviously trying to avoid Mother Superion’s radar. By this time however, all the nuns had gotten off to start the day’s program. Camila had unloaded the last of the fruit baskets, electronic keyboard in tow.

“Bea,” she signaled for Beatrice to come outside. Beatrice nodded in reply and gestured towards Ava.

“We’ll catch up.”

And with that, Camila shrugged and closed the van door behind her.

Beatrice and Ava were left alone in a silent space, only the faint laughter of children in the distance being heard.

She let a few seconds go by, relishing in the calm before deciding to speak again.

“You have fifty seconds left.”

Ava pretended to snore, still very evidently tired from all the physical training she’s had to undergo the last few weeks.

Beatrice stared on. She noted Ava’s long eyelashes and her rounded features, letting her eyes wander the halo-bearer’s physique. The way she sported the blue track suit that matched her own habit, and the way her hair fell on her shoulders. She had to stop herself from caressing its entirety.

She recalled a verse from the book of Matthew:

_And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better for you to lose one part of your body than your whole body go into hell._

This was a verse referring to adultery, or the thought of adultery. In the case of today it was a question of whether she was breaking her vows merely by touching.

So she used her left hand.

Beatrice stroked the baby hairs on Ava’s head, deciding that this time she would have to push these feelings away.

“Get up, Ava.”

Ava opened her eyes and looked up at Beatrice, confused as to why her fifty seconds were cut short. But she conceded anyway. She got up from Beatrice’s lap and just as swiftly, Beatrice exited the van without another word.

Beatrice walked towards a pillar to briefly hide herself wiping off a tear, and finally went on with her day with the children.


	2. Under the Blankets

“You’re gonna regret not getting in at least a couple stretches, Beatrice,” Lilith warned as she did a standing hamstring stretch with the rest of the sisters.

They were up in a few moments. Today’s training regimen was hand-to-hand combat. And while Beatrice never dreaded any of the fight drills, today was especially hard as she was feeling a little (nay, a lot) under the weather. In spite of this, she pushed on and feigned strength – a horrible idea seeing as she was up against Mary first.

A first pair of sisters had begun the spar session, Mother Superion on looking from one of the terraces as per usual. Every now and then she would remark from a distance how one fighter is too slow, or coming on too stiff, or some other comment to help them watch their blind side.

The fight dragged on for a while, the constant parrying and jumping around too much for her dry, tired eyes to handle at the moment. Nonetheless, Beatrice watched until the spar was over.

And once it was finally time for _her_ to go up against Mary, she felt quite anxious – not because it was Mary (because she knew she could take her), but because a stint of nausea had hit her when she stood up to walk to the center.

Ava, who sat beside her, took notice of Beatrice’s seemingly frail demeanor. “You okay?”

Lilith scoffed, interjecting, “It’s Mary. I think you’re forgetting not all of us have instant healing abilities.” Mary could be heard chuckling from the matted area, remembering her and Lilith having a go at it several times in the past. 

Beatrice smiled at Ava, “I’m alright.” She took a short labored breath before walking towards the mat.

She was met with a very energized Mary, who was currently jogging in place to _get the blood pumpin’_ , as she liked to phrase it.

“Begin,” Superion called from afar.

Beatrice bowed, and Mary bowed in response. In that moment, she was relieved to see the other girl display duel etiquette, at least in training. The short moment of courtesy was abruptly cut, however, as Mary took on a fighting stance and curled her hand into a fist, aiming at the shorter girl’s nose – a punch Beatrice barely evaded.

From the watchers’ side, Camila asks to herself, _“Why is Beatrice wearing a winter tunic?”_

Mary quickly followed up with a strike under the other girl’s jaw, and Beatrice stepped back and swung at Mary, who could do nothing but take it on the shoulder. It was a pathetic move, of which in a point system would not have counted for much. If only she had more energy to move a little faster.

Mary got in four more hits – two lefts, one to the nose bridge and a right knee to the gut. Beatrice stumbled back, blood rushing from her nose.

Convinced that she was still doing an okay job (despite the crowd’s murmurs), she lunged forward to tackle Mary, bloody nose and all, clearly not coming up with any good strategy. Her form was lost and in the moment she simply seemed like nothing but a drunk street fighter.

Mary half turned and half stepped back, a fluid quarter-circular motion, bracing herself for Beatrice’s off-script and out of character movement. She braced long enough for Beatrice’s momentum to establish, and then she whipped back through the arc towards her, effectively landing a sharp blow to Beatrice’s temple.

Beatrice collapsed on the ground. Against all her will, against all her years of training and experience, she let out a cry. It was the mix of physical and emotional turbulence that finally took a toll on her since Ava happened. Her head throb and her sight spun from Mary’s kick. Atop it all was the blonde – the root of all her problems – currently wearing a troubled look. It did not help either that a fever was spiking. She could feel every wave, washing over her all at once.

Mary was taken aback by the sight of a crying Beatrice, one of whom never showed emotion during battle.

“Beatrice, hey,” Mary moved towards her to help her up from the ground, but the other girl held up a palm towards her, stopping Mary in her tracks.

“I yield,” Beatrice said, almost in a pleading tone.

“Good to know but I wasn’t gonna hit you, Bea. Come on.” Mary helped her stand and looked for signs of a concussion, and was confused when there seemed to be none.

“I’ll see myself to the infirmary,” Beatrice ended and walked away from the grounds, leaving everyone very confused about what they had just seen. Beatrice was never one to withdraw from a fight so early on.

Needless to say, training continued despite this, and the rest of the day went normally for everyone. Save the four, who missed Beatrice during dinner. Camila elected to check on her in the infirmary while the others ate. She had then proceeded to tell everyone that Beatrice had apparently gone down with the flu.

“She logged antipyretics from the infirmary,” Camila sing-songed, “but I assume she’s asleep in her room now.” Lilith murmured something about Mary beating up a sick nun, starting banter between the two.

Amidst the quick-paced events, Ava naturally only had Beatrice in mind. And so she decided to pass by Beatrice’s room soon after dinner.

* * *

She debated whether or not she would knock and risk waking Beatrice, but ultimately decided to lightly thump on the door. She let herself in after hearing no response.

“Beatrice?” Ava voiced just above a whisper, eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. She stepped in and closed the door behind her.

Shuffling towards Beatrice, she could make out piled up fabrics by the bedside. She found that it was indeed Beatrice’s training clothes from earlier today, noting the bloodied cowl she had been wearing during the spar.

It tugged at her heartstrings seeing Beatrice look so fragile, bundled in sheets and shivering in her sleep.

Ava positioned herself next to Beatrice so she could check her forehead with the back of her hand. When she felt it was hot to the touch, she silently prayed she could take away a fraction of her fever, a fraction of the pain Beatrice was feeling, which unbeknownst to her, was largely caused _by her._

“Beatrice,” she inched her face closer to the other girl’s, “still a badass.”

Beatrice pulled the blankets closer towards her face as she let out a huff. She was burning up, and Ava had never wanted to cram herself in a tiny twin bed with someone before, especially considering the said _someone_ was this febrile boss she had grown so fond of.

But in the name of Beatrice’s comfort she was glad she did.

Beatrice let out a sigh, subconsciously thankful for the newfound heat source situated next to her, which was in the form of her favorite halo-bearer.


	3. In Prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. Forgot to mention that this story can be considered stand-alone per chapter. It’s a series of prompts from Tumblr user trash-by-vogue. Anyway, enjoy!

Ava stood under the glaring heat of the sun, impatiently staring at the memory board Camila had set up for her.

“You’re halfway through, you can do it!” Camila applauded her from under the shade of a nearby tree.

The blonde snorted in reply. “Right,” she said, fixing her gaze on the board, “but why do I have to memorize this in this heat again?”

“Oh, you don’t really have to do it under the sun. We’re just testing your memory in a stressful environment,” the nun replied in a cheery voice, “that prayer is a good one to practice with!”

Beatrice, who stood next to Camila in the shade, could be seen smiling at the blonde.

 _Talk about a stressful environment,_ Ava thought.

“Start from the top,” Beatrice instructed.

Ava nodded and proceeded to guide herself with the illustrations.

On the easel sat eight images pasted on a board, each image corresponding to a sentence keyword of a Latin prayer. With relative ease, she uttered the first five sentences from the top of her head. And then came the sixth image, a stock image of a ripped guy’s six pack.

Ava took a minute to recall the keyword, and sighed in exasperation when she couldn’t remember it.

“Six… pack?” Ava looked to the pair for correction. Camila shook her head while Beatrice furtively mouthed the word _ab_ for Ava to pick up.

“Nooo,” Camila exclaimed, “What’s another word for that?”

“Got it. It’s Ab,” Ava sent a knowing glance to Beatrice, who smiled and winked at her in response after basically letting her cheat on a test.

“Good!” Camila cheered again.

“ _Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine,_ ” she paused to look at the next photograph, a stock image of a security guard. “ _Ut Ecclesiam tuam securi –_ ”

“Secura!” Camila butted in.

” _– secura,_ ” Ava re-pronounced, fixing her error, “ _tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus audi nos._ ”

The last image awaited, a picture of Daenerys from Game of Thrones. Surely, Ava knew the character from watching television 24/7 in her old life. She did not, however, remember the whole sentence linked with the keyword.

“I know the keyword is _digneris_ but I can’t remember the sentence right now. I just really need a break, Camila. It’s so hot!” Ava put on a sad, puppy-eyed face and pouted.

Beatrice, being the concerned _friend_ that she was, gave in instantly to Ava’s pleading by handing her a water bottle and ushering her over to the shade.

Upon close inspection, it was quite easy to take notice of Ava’s reddened face, as well as the beads of sweat rolling down from her forehead down to her neck, down to –

“You teach her the rest of it, then,” Camila interrupted Beatrice’s thoughts. “ _With_ the accent. I’d like to hear the full prayer tomorrow morning, please,” she added, unmistakably discontented that Ava was a child to work with when it came to literature lessons. Beatrice throwing in the towel today wasn’t helping either.

With that, Camila concluded the lesson, picked up the easel, and marched away to do her reports.

“Hmm,” Beatrice clasped her hands together and rested them against her abdomen, “I think we may have slightly upset Sister Camila.”

Ava chuckled unremorsefully and raised her hands in surrender, “Hey, it wasn’t me that gave the trainee a water bottle,” she said in jest, momentarily taking her eyes off Beatrice to take a swig, leaving herself afterwards with wet lips, red from the sun. Beatrice narrowly got away from staring at her mouth.

Beatrice cleared her throat, trying to regain composure before changing the subject, “I expect you’ll do your readings by your lonesome.”

Ava craned her neck left and right, as though trying to weigh her options. “Or,” she smiled goofily, “I can push my luck and maybe have you take a listen?”

Beatrice jokingly rolled her eyes at her, submitting to the halo-bearer’s request.

Eventually they settled on a patch of grass to work on the rest of the chant, Beatrice listening intently to the way the words rolled off of Ava’s tongue.

“Latin suits you well,” Beatrice blurted out, more out of fascination than of commendation.

“Would help if I actually understood what I was saying,” Ava shook her head and clicked her tongue.

“With tomorrow’s assignment you’ll understand,” Beatrice said vaguely, stood up from the ground, and offered a hand to help Ava up.

“Tomorrow? Why, what’s the assignment?” Ava questioned, taking Beatrice’s hand and stood.

Beatrice debated whether she would tell Ava what little intel she knew, but ultimately decided against it.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be briefed before dinner tonight,” she offered a warm smile instead, as well as a reassuring squeeze on the blonde’s hand.

* * *

_So that’s what it was…_

Ava lost sleep that night despite having been advised to sleep early. Tomorrow they would have to leave early for a long drive to Madrid, approximately four hours away from Andalusia.

They were filled in on the case, like Beatrice had mentioned. She had learned that they were heading to a pub in a neighborhood in Chueca. Earlier tonight, she was introduced to one of the Order’s younger priests, Father Javier, a brawny and seemingly-smart man who by the looks of it, was barely in his 40’s. He didn’t talk much.

Initially she thought, that if there was a need for an ordained member, then it was probably not going to be just physical confrontation tomorrow. Of course her intuition was right.

The meeting had been full of different strategies and presentations, opinions differed and storms brewed over which approach would best fit the mission. By the time the briefing was over, Ava was exhausted just by listening despite having little to no input. But, at the very least, everyone had agreed over a plan just before 10 PM.

And so came dawn, and the hustle started way before the sun came up.

Camila made sure to check in on Ava to see if she was awake.

“Yeah I’m up, thanks,” Ava half-lied, because she didn’t go to sleep in the first place. So by the time the sisters had settled in and the van’s engine revved, she was fast asleep against the rearmost seat.

* * *

Ava awoke to a loud thud from the front end of the vehicle. _Somebody_ had made sure to slam the door loudly to startle everyone who decided to nap (it was Mary).

She rubbed her eyes, adjusting her vision to the brightness outside as they stepped out.

The OCS’ Madrid locale offered a fresh, modern look – a far cry from where they trained in Antequera. The building components were mostly right angles, reinforced with concrete and steel, neatly packaged in a minimalist aesthetic image. Ava noted the lack of ornaments and the absence of cobblestone and spiky gates. The windows were large and the atmosphere, open. The façade came in shades of whites and creams and light grays, much like the mansions she used to squat at with JC’s crew in the past – a definite freeing aura. She had yet to pick up her jaw from the floor.

“If that’s your type of view you should come by Belgravia in London,” Mary said. Beatrice sent her a shrewd look, as though it was an inside joke turned sour.

“What about London?” Ava asked, confused.

Mary pointed at Beatrice while looking at Ava. “She’s Belgravia,” Mary whispered even though Beatrice could hear.

“Don’t mind her, Ava,” Beatrice cut in, shaking her head smiling.

* * *

_1800H_.

That would be in exactly two hours, when reports of a supposed haunted cocktail bar would start ringing in on the nightly. Today was no different – only this time the Order was in town.

The case had been turned over to them just the other day, when a local priest finally decided to call in higher powers and admit that he can’t carry out the exorcism himself.

And now here they were, entering Del Diego to check out the ambiance. Nothing out of the ordinary for what seemed like a fancy rendezvous point.

The store was open for business despite the reports and rumors of a haunting and an alleged possession of one of the bartenders the week prior.

When the time neared, the sisters did their best to rid the premises of people and clear the bar of furniture, wall hangings, anything that may become projectile. Unsurprisingly, with the area being a busy district, not everyone was going to buy an exorcism happening in the middle of a modern town.

“We know at least one of these tourists is bound to be hopped on,” Camila remarked from near the bar’s fridge, watching passersby strolling and enjoying the sunset outside.

“And by _hopped on_ … you mean possessed, right?” Ava probed, the need for an answer extinguished as the group collectively felt the ground shake slightly from under them.

“Go time,” Mary whispered.

The sisters took their stance. Father Javier loosened the rosary wrapped around his fist.

The team looked to Ava for affirmation, following her gaze.

At that point in time, a bright red shroud of smoke rose from the flooring at breakneck speed and passed through the bar’s glass entrance in search of a viable host.

Beatrice unhooked her chain belt, ready to wield it at Ava’s signal.

“There!” Ava led and bolted outside, just as the apparition stopped over the head of an unsuspecting man. He had a thin frame and looked fairly young.

Beatrice flung her chain at the man Ava pointed out, marvelously interlocking at the now host’s lower extremities.

Half the group stayed inside the bar, ready to restrain the host on the chair in the middle of the room.

Frightened on-lookers fled the scene as the man shouted religious profanity and blasphemy with a low, fiendish voice. His sclera had turned dark, and there was a sinister, taunting smile plastered across his face.

Mary rolled her eyes as she and two other sisters dragged the man inside to contain him. With a struggle, five people’s efforts somehow managed to cuff the man’s hands on the chair, for his own protection and theirs. The low, incomprehensible screeches from the entity did not stop.

The amber lights switched off and on, and everyone could feel the difference in temperature. It had turned unbelievably cold. The wallpaper started to detach from the walls, the remaining fixtures shaking, bottles of liquor shattering in the back, the entire room thrown in chaos.

If it were all up to Lilith and Mary, it would be so much easier to just beat the crap out of the guy to render him an unsuitable body. Much to their dismay, that was only done in emergencies. It still paid to cast out demons the traditional way. It was a disservice to the person to take the alternate route where there was no need for it.

The priest began to recite the rites, the nuns alertly standing by in case anything went sideways (i.e., there was more than one possession).

Thankfully it was just that one demon they had to execute and they were done for the day. If only it would budge.

It was not done being an asshole.

Bottles from behind the bar, which were already out of sight, managed to be channeled and hovered around the room. It was every woman for herself, the lot dodging shards of glass and whole bottles that were yet to be broken. It was a room of constant projectiles, despite the group’s effort to eliminate loose items. One would have been lucky to get out of there unscathed. Even Beatrice, one of the best of them, caught _some_ debris to the hands.

The fiendish sounds went on.

“Camila, what the actual fuck!” Ava yelled from across the room to one Camila taking cover behind a steel tray.

Camila shot her a baffled look. It would have to wait though, Ava thought. She dwelled on the fact that Camila had her memorize this “prayer” JUST YESTERDAY. The same prayer that just happened to match the exact same one Father Javier was currently chanting.

So what was the point of yesterday’s literature lesson?

She looked around the room. All of the best fighters were present in this mission despite there being only _one_ demon. Lilith was ready to pounce with a divinium dagger as soon as the demon left the host. Mary’s finger was on the trigger. Camila was brandishing throwingstars like nobody’s business. Beatrice well, was Beatrice. Nobody else in the group was ordained, and seeing as halo-bearers were regarded higher than the sisters, Ava could only deduce one thing:

She was not here to kick ass. She was the back-up exorcist.

Clearly, the Order had things lead up to this specific scenario – one particularly messy case, just hard enough for her to step in, but not too hard that they would not be able to cap it. It was very strategic on the part of the Order. The logistics of this mission was genius.

But as the logistics adage goes, anything that can go wrong _will_ go wrong.

A Jager bottle flew across the room in a ridiculously blistering speed, welting Father Javier on the back of the head, leaving him disoriented.

 _Anything that can go wrong will go wrong,_ the thought bounced in her mind again.

“I figured it out, you fucktards!” Ava yelled at the group, finally realizing that none of the sisters will physically intervene because this case was reserved for _her._ It was a high-stress incident specifically fitting to tax her memory. Her first exorcism.

“Language!” Lilith yelled back from the other side of the bar, her stance firm but tone laced with a snicker.

“Just finish the damn incantation!” Mary shouted, trigger finger itching more and more by the second.

Without wasting another second, Ava picked up from where Father Javier left off, “ _Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine… quem inferi tremunt…”_ she enounced as clearly as she could, maintaining eye contact with the entity, who was now thrashing more violently than before, starting to injure the host’s wrists. He kept growling the word _claudus_ at her in ascending loudness, but Ava shrugged it off as she did not understand what the demon was saying.

Ava continued with the last of yesterday’s lesson, “ _Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos._ ”

The possessed made sounds in the lowest register, most impossible for the human voicebox to ever produce as the halo-bearer neared the end of the incantation.

But Ava stepped back, disheartened when the last sentence would not come to her.

The shards were turning into dust at each passing moment, further more dangerous as the seconds passed them by. The host body had lashed hard enough to break a thumb and free a hand from the cuff that bound him.

Completely dejected, she began to panic and partly considered to simply render the host unfit, much like the time she and Mary beat up that guy in the City of Ronda.

The ground shook again, and everything else inside the bar not held down by screws began to levitate. It was getting increasingly harder to keep themselves planted on the ground. As though she had been thinking out loud, she felt a strong pair of hands from behind grip her by the hips. Beatrice, face now clad with tiny scratches from flying glass shards, felt around for Ava’s belt loops and secured her own belt against the blonde’s. Holding her bo staff with her right hand against the ceiling to keep them from floating, Beatrice pulled Ava closer with her left to whisper the incantations in her ear.

This was the rest of the team’s cue to limber up as the exorcism approached its finishing point.

“ _Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus audi nos,”_ Ava repeated just a tick behind Beatrice’s words.

And with that, the host body expelled the entity.

“My two –” Ava instructed to no one in particular, but found an array of munitions sprung 60 degrees to her right, ahead. Everybody wanted to get it over with, accounting for the overkill.

The lights stopped flickering and the gravity in the room was reestablished instantly.

A collective sigh could be heard in the room, marking the mission's end.

With perfect timing, Ava felt Beatrice relax from behind her as she undid what held her and the blonde together. This gave Ava the room to face the other girl. Beatrice was quickly met with an embrace and a very relieved Ava nestling her face in her neck.

Lids heavy, Ava breathed against Beatrice's neck, dragging her words, “You’re the best, do you know that?”


	4. Over Tea

Ava tolerated the slight rumbling in her gut, regretting skipping dinner last night after a particularly strenuous session of combat training. As per usual, Lilith managed to kick her ass, but at the very least, she got a commendation from the nun yesterday after getting in a couple hooks. The thought however, was not making up for the pang that she was currently feeling in her stomach.

_I’m never passing on supper ever again,_ she thought, and then proceeded to mentally kick herself after realizing she had used the word “supper” in her head. Clearly, British antics and vocabulary have been rubbing off on her.

In bed at _God knows what time_ , Ava pressed on her belly, willing the hunger away. To no avail, obviously, as minutes later she found herself in front of Beatrice’s door with the full intention of waking the girl up.

“Beatrice,” Ava whisper-yelled, knocking persistently. “Beatrice, I need your help.”

Upon uttering the word “help”, the door swung open, and Ava found a worried (and veilless, pajama-clad) Beatrice who looked on with panic(?). Ava couldn’t help but feel sorry for making it seem like there was a halo emergency. The only logical way to explain of course, was to go into a slurry of words – characteristic Ava way.

“I know it’s the middle of the night and I’m really sorry but I’m so _so_ hungry I need your help to whip something up please I literally _would not_ have asked if I had any other choice I don’t know my way around the kitchen.”

Beatrice closed her eyes in frustration and pressed the bridge of her nose. “I had thought you were in trouble,” she exhaled, looking at the shorter girl in a please-don’t-do-that-again manner.

“You’re right, I should have emailed you first,” Ava replied joking, trying to lighten the mood. While at it she also noted the other girl’s quarters, walls laden with images of Jesus Christ and the Blessed Virgin Mary. There must have been a dozen different depictions of the Virgin Mary there, so much so that it became a challenge for her to recognize the difference between the titles, as she had learned in Roman Catholic studies. Beatrice’s choice of red, dimmed lighting didn’t help her see much either. “How on earth do you sleep with that kind of light on?” she thought out loud but made no attempt in looking sorry this time.

“That,” Beatrice looked to her night light and then back at Ava, “– is less likely to suppress melatonin production and interfere with sleep than the average yellow-toned ones.”

Ava, being her quick-witted self, retorted feigning offense. “ _Average_ yellow-toned ones? You mean like… ?” she gestured toward her own back.

“N-no, obviously I didn’t mean that,” Beatrice stammered. “If anything, your glowing from behind is a sight to behold.”

Ava squinted her eyes in a playful way. “Hmm. Good save.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes in response and closed her bedroom door behind her. “Shall we?”

* * *

Her eyes examined the very softly-lit room. _This is the dullest kitchen in the world_ , she thought. Only a portion of the space could be reached by the fluorescents, and the other half seemed to rely on natural light which in this case, was the moon. She supposed it was never designed to be used at night anyway. _It probably looks less gloomy during the day._

“I swear,” Ava started, trying to break the awkward silence as Beatrice moved around in the kitchen while she was just watching. “This won’t happen again. You know that saying about teaching a man how to fish?”

Beatrice chuckled without turning her eyes away from the pan, “I’m quite aware of the parable.”

“Right,” Ava nodded.

“So?”

“So… ?”

“Are you planning on actually learning or are you just going to watch from the counter?” Beatrice challenged, finally glancing at her.

“Oh, yeah,” Ava answered, finally getting up from where she sat. She walked to Beatrice, closely watching the girl as she washed an egg with soap. Ava snorted. She had seen a few cooking shows before, but not one of those television cooks ever did that. She thought it ridiculous since the shell wasn’t going in the food anyway.

“It’s unconventional, I’m aware. But we don’t really know what germs they carry,” Beatrice explained, not needing Ava to point it out. Her snort was telling enough.

She handed her the washed egg and pushed a bowl towards the halo-bearer’s direction. “Here. Crack the egg,” she said, placing it on Ava’s palm as she offered her a warm smile.

There was a short moment of silence.

“I’ve –” Ava started, gulping; in a sort of dismayed way.

Beatrice could not put her finger on why there was a sudden shift in the girl’s mood.

It took another second before Ava spoke again.

“I’ve never even cracked an egg before. I haven’t held one in over a decade, much less learn to break it but not like, _break_ break it, you know?” she said quickly wiping off a tear as soon as it fell. Her disposition changed again, as fast as it had changed from neutral to sad. She felt angry at the circumstances.

“Hey. Hey,” Beatrice comforted putting a hand on Ava’s shoulder, her soothing tone disarming the other girl who swiftly pulled away in response.

“It’s dumb, forget I said that,” Ava said shaking her head, tearing her sight away from Beatrice. She looked at anything – _anything_ except for her.

She tried to look to the walls, the ceiling, the fully stocked fridge – all of which she eventually realized would not give her solace in such an emotional moment. So she dared to look at Beatrice’s moon lit face, and Ava felt dazed. Dazed by how, even after going through 30 different emotions in the span of 5 seconds, Beatrice was just _there_. Ever so patient, ever so enduring. Just _waiting_ for her to recover.

“How do you even do that?” Ava asked, incredulous. “ _How_ do you put up with me?”

The other girl breathed in deeply and let out a sigh.

“If you saw what I can see, you would find how _un_ complicated it is. It’s not a nun thing, I promise. It’s you.

You’re,” Beatrice paused to think, “quite easy to adore.”

Ava scoffed, but Beatrice carried on talking.

“I see someone who’s strong, and has a divergent sense of humor. I see a girl who isn’t afraid to speak her mind and be vulnerable,” Beatrice spoke without missing a beat. “You are a breath of fresh air and you are very beautiful,” she looked at her in the eyes.

Beatrice took Ava’s occupied hand in hers and led it towards the bowl, intent on showing Ava how to crack the egg. She wrapped her arms around her from behind, guiding Ava’s hands, one for gripping, and one for pulling the two halves apart. Applying just the right amount of pressure, she helped the shorter girl break the shell and empty the egg’s contents into the bowl without a hitch.

Ava hummed in her head. _Hmm. Just like television._

* * *

Beatrice watched Ava gobble up the last of the scrambled eggs. There was something about Ava’s cheeriness this morning that made Beatrice contented simply by looking at the girl eat, who in turn, took notice.

Ava raised an eyebrow but remained to shove pieces of bread in her mouth. “I don’t know why you insist on not eating, but apparently I make pretty mean breakfast eggs,” she remarked, holding up an OK ring gesture.

Beatrice chuckled, tiredness slowly leaving her as the first specks of sunlight began to arise, “In a while.” She reasoned that it had been a habit to eat with the other sisters. Not having breakfast with them just seemed out of place. Not that she minded being up at the crack of dawn with Ava. Not at all.

“Thank you, by the way,” Ava said as she wiped her mouth, “for teaching me how to work the stove.”

“You’re welcome to knock on my door any time. Hunger or otherwise,” Beatrice smiled amiably.

“Time for me to pay up, I guess.”

Ava paid no attention to Beatrice’s confusion and stood to grab a mug from the cupboard, impulsively deciding to make the other girl a cup of tea. Because… Beatrice was English?

Not quite.

Ava simply did not know what Beatrice preferred to drink in the morning. And Ava had never made tea before, but she assumed it was easy enough. Tea is, after all, impossible to get wrong.

So she shuffled around, taking a teaspoon from the drawer and a tea bag from the cabinet, water from a jug. Mixed and combined. A sugar cube for good measure. Or four.

Beatrice looked on, amused. _Not the proper way to make tea_ , she thought. Or not a way to make tea at all. But this was Ava. And as far as she was concerned, it was the thought that counted anyway. This mantra would prove useful when Ava finally presented her with the tea she had concocted, proud smiles and all. She encouraged Beatrice to take a sip.

The nun tried to hold back a laugh, chuckling instead when she felt the cup cold to the touch. The “tea” was not done diffusing, and the sugar cubes were yet to dissolve (and they probably would be intact forever as Ava used _cold_ water). But she took a sip anyway.

She kept herself from making a face. “It’s refreshing. Thank you.”

As a winning gesture, Ava pumped her fist in the air, cheering on herself for doing a good job.

On several more occasions Beatrice let Ava make her tea, and nine times out of ten she would genuinely enjoy Ava’s bland brews. Although she wasn’t quite sure if she was acquiring a taste for unpleasant tasting tea or that she just simply liked to see Ava happy, at some point she thought she would have to actually teach the halo-bearer how to do it right before Lilith points out that Ava’s tea is in fact, horrible.

But watching Ava perform her victory dance she thought, not today.


End file.
